Restitution
by petite-dreamer
Summary: Fortunately for Vincent, even the Planet isn't immune to mistakes. A series of drabbles.


From the moment Vincent Valentine awakes, the sense of wrongness is unbearably strong_._

The dissonance of traffic from below suggests that he is in Midgar - which is a ridiculous notion since it's been in ruins for three years. Just as absurd is the hubbub of office work and military training coming from the building itself, because Shinra Tower is even more thoroughly destroyed than the rest of the city.

Of course, that is nowhere near as bizarre as looking in the mirror to see his sleek hair chin-length instead of spilling down his back. Thin, silvery combat scars across his chest in place of wide gashes stitched together with thick sutures. Two completely human hands without a metal claw in sight.

But what alarms Vincent the most is the fact that, for the first time in three decades, the only presence in his mind is his own.

_~x~_

Surrounded by white space and flowers, Vincent discovers that it is both irreverently funny and disturbingly unnerving to hear the Planet – or her Cetra spokeswoman – say "oops."

"An accident," he deadpans.

Aerith shrugs apologetically. "We meant to send back Cloud."

"Then send him after you've taken me back to the present."

"…"

"You _can_ do that, can't you?"

Aerith at least has the decency to look sheepish. "Um… yes and no?"

Vincent chooses not to dignify that with a response.

"We can still send Cloud back in time – we already have, actually. But when we send anyone back, it creates a parallel timeline, and they're, um, stuck there. So we could send you forward thirty-some years back to your time, but it – well, it wouldn't actually be _your_ time. Um, sorry."

Vincent can imagine the laughing fit Chaos would have had if the demon was still in his head. As it is, Chaos is gone, and he has a second chance he never asked for.

_~x~_

He's supposed to be a rookie, not yet a year out of cadet training. And at first there is some genuine awkwardness – after decades of superhuman strength and reflexes, this new/old body feels soft and clumsy. But the smooth metal of a handgun beneath his palm is just too natural to fake otherwise, especially for one who once put a bullet down the barrel of an enemy's Peacemaker (and that was before Chaos enhanced his abilities).

Attracting the attention of his comrades so quickly is not his intent – quite the opposite, in fact – but Veld at least seems to take his sudden skill in stride, for which Vincent is grateful. The last thing he needs is for his own work partner to start asking difficult questions.

So as far as his old duties are concerned, it's as if nothing has ever changed. Being a Turk is simply second nature.

_~x~_

Seeing Lucrecia, alive and free of crystalline stasis, is so surreal that he almost forgets his years of penitence. But when she flinches ever so slightly at his last name, he remembers why she left last time and realizes how similar they've become.

For all the should-haves he's pondered during his previous life, Vincent can't come up with a way to reveal what he knows about his father's death that will convince her that he doesn't blame her. So he doesn't broach the topic, and he gains a few more months with her than last time.

But a deep-seeded guilt will always reveal itself before long. When Lucrecia finally spills her not-secret, Vincent can do no more than stand by as she seeks refuge from her remorse – first in the arms of his would-be tormentor, and ultimately in her crystalline coffin.

_~x~_

It'd be difficult to tell even if the child was unaltered, since both he and Hojo have Wutai blood in them, but Jenova's presence makes identifying Sephiroth's paternity impossible for all practical purposes. Even a DNA test might not give a proper answer. But in the end, it changes nothing. Sephiroth is Lucrecia's son, and that will always be reason enough to care.

If all goes as planned, Hojo will arrive at the lab in the morning to find panicking assistants and an empty crib while he and the child safely cross the Wutai border. Vincent cradles the silver-haired infant with one arm as he slips through the abandoned hallways.

Yet even with all of Vincent's Turk stealth, he cannot go completely undetected.

Gast stands in the doorway, blocking his path. With his free hand, Vincent reaches for the only materia he'd been able to find on short notice, an Ice. Gast simply extends an arm holding a case of vials.

"He'll need to be gradually weaned off the mako."

Vincent's nod is the only sign of his gratitude before he disappears into the night.

_~x~_

The work the Jenova cells did in Lucrecia's womb cannot be undone, so Sephiroth's appearance is not so different from the madman Vincent once fought – the silver hair, green cat-slit eyes and lean body still create the illusion of an ancient marble masterpiece given life.

Vincent trains him well in the art of every weapon he knew once upon a future, but without the constant injections from Hojo, Sephiroth's physical potential is not as great; though he still favors the katana in the end, he does not have the inhuman reflexes and strength to wield Masamune (besides, Vincent doesn't know where it can be found, or if it has even been forged this time around).

But the most important differences come about from the evenings of Sephiroth's youth when, in lieu of a bedtime story, Vincent spends a few minutes telling him of his very real, very human mother.

_~x~_

The war is bloody, as such conflicts always are, but the playing field has been leveled; this time Wutai troops speak the name of the "Silver Demon" with awe and respect rather than fear and hatred. Vincent sits in on strategy councils with Lord Godo and an adolescent that again bears the name of General, and he dares to imagine a world without Shinra's control.

Under Sephiroth's tactical command, Wutai wins several crucial battles that Vincent is sure went the other way last time, and when Shinra's General Rhapsodos and Commander Hewley desert in the thick of battle, their place is never truly filled. Yet Shinra still has the advantage of raw numbers, which allows them to pull a stalemate.

Vincent tries not to think about how much emptier SOLDIER's halls must be, but when Commander Zackary Fair shows up to the treaty signing with a prosthetic leg, there's a guilty twinge that won't quite go away.

_~x~_

After the war, a thorough investigation of Shinra's science department begins as agreed in the treaty (a condition which Vincent requested based on "evidence of maltreatment of Wutain POWs"). Shortly afterward, formal charges are pressed against Hojo for human experimentation - not just of said POWs but also of Shinra citizens. But while public pressure has forced President Shinra's hand, Vincent doesn't trust him to grow a true conscience anytime soon. So when job openings in the science department are announced the year Sephiroth turns twenty-one, Vincent encourages him to apply, citing the old adage of keeping enemies closer.

Vincent is invited to the first company dinner after Sephiroth's contract signing, and the consequences of the war are so obvious to him that he briefly wishes he had left well enough alone. That thought ends as soon as he meets ShinRa's head scientist, who is accompanied by his Cetra wife and their seventeen-year-old daughter, and Vincent decides that Aerith _Faramis _is all the lovelier for having a happy childhood.

Sephiroth's uncharacteristic blushing and stammering suggests he'd agree.

_~x~_

He was fifty-seven once, but not really. Now his hair is more silver than black, his skin creased, and his reflexes slowed. It is a loss he hardly remembers now, not when he has gained so much more.

Dr. Crescent – a name Sephiroth is proud to bear – is set to take control of ShinRa's science division when Dr. Faramis retires in a few years, but Vincent suspects Gast won't be too far away, not as long as his son-in-law so eagerly seeks his advice - and certainly not now that Aerith's had her short stay in the maternity ward.

He thought he loved Lucrecia, but nothing can compare to the all-consuming warmth of having Sephiroth place a small bundle with brown fuzz in his arms with the words, "Say hello to your Grandad Vincent, Lucy."

Surrounded by those he cares for and who care for him, in a world so much less broken than the one he was taken from, Vincent finally thinks he understands the feelings and complexities wrapped up in the word _home_.


End file.
